I'll Be Good
by XMytho-LogicX
Summary: Hi Misha! A fanfic for AlchemicFox's [SPN] I'll be good CMV Enjoy! /watch?v rg-gty sZh0
1. Chapter 1

_Hola Mishamigos!_

 _It's Logic back at it again, bringing you another distraction from your homework._

 _This one is dedicated to AlchemicFox for the "I'll be good" CMV_

 _It made me cry you jerk._

Dean

I turned the radio off, pulling into the grass.

No Sam to tell my not to drive into the cemetery.

On autopilot, I got out a grabbed the shovel, squaring my shoulders, and shoved it into the dirt.

"Don't think about it," I told myself.

Salt.

Gasoline.

Matches.

 _Dean looked at himself in the mirror and saw a monster._

 _He was now one of the things he hunted, but he couldn't find it in him to care._

 _Black eyes engulfed who he was and who he had been._

 _The real Dean would have hated him, killed him._

 _He would have feared his future. Would have done anything to change it._

 _Now, he just laughed cruelly, thinking about real Dean's fakeness._

I shook it off, closing that off.

I didn't want to think about it or deal with it.

If I ignored it long enough it would go away.

Grave burned, I went back to the empty hotel room and poured myself some rum.

"Alcohol fixes everything," I thought. It had to.

I tipped the glass back, shutting out everything except for the taste.

 _Black eyes. Soulless smile. Me._

I sat up quickly, panting, wishing my dream wasn't as true as it was.

A demon.

I'm a demon.

I look around the car, hoping Sam hadn't noticed anything strange.

Then I remember; I'm alone. He's getting his stuff from the hotel.

I would be good.

I had to be.

Sam

Dean rested against the driver side door, waiting for Sammy to walk up with his stuff.

Sam laughed, seeing him wait in that "cool guy" pose that he loved so much.

He spotted him and smiled, nodding him over.

Sam approached, ready to hit the road again.

Nothing could separate them.

Nothing could ever make him hate Dean.

They were forever.

Saving people, hunting things; the family business.

Nothing could change that.

Dean

I stood outside the bathroom, watching Sam inside.

He was using a washcloth to clean the blood of his face.

The wound that he had caused.

Hating myself, I took the car and left.

Alcohol.

I needed to drown myself, forget who I was.

What I was.

I sat with my back to the driver side door and tossed a beer cap onto the quickly growing pile.

Something stronger that's what I needed.

I crawled into baby and took a drink from Bobby's flask.

It wasn't enough. Nothing was.

I looked out the window, hoping, but knowing I wouldn't, that I would find the answer to all of this.

There wasn't much more I could take.

I had to go on.

I had to be good.

I walked through the woods, gripping my gun with my right hand, as I looked for the monster that had been terrorizing the local town.

 _Unless you're the monster_ , a small voice in my head told me.

I shut it out, forcing myself to focus.

I had to go on, had to be good.

When I was done, I went to my empty room and drowned myself in alcohol.

I couldn't remember the last time I was sober.

Sam would have told me that I was going to kill myself, but he wasn't here.

If he was he would probably be dead by now. I had to stay away from him. For his safety. For mine.

I poured myself another glass, but instead of going to down it like the others, I just stared at it.

What was the point anymore?

I drank it anyways, not really tasting it anymore. I didn't drink for pleasure anymore; now I did it to drown out my life.

Sam would have told me it was an addiction. He would know.

I wonder if he would have drank my blood if these two things had happened at the same time.

But unlike that time, there was no afterward for me.

This was it. This was what my life was.

But I had to to go on. Had to be good.

I fired off a shot then pocketed my gun in favor for the hunting knife in my jacket.

Sliding down the canyon, knife forced out ward so that I didn't cut myself, I wondered if this made me a hypocrite. A monster killing other monsters for what they were doing.

Sometimes the urge to give up and let the Demon out forever was too overwhelming, but I couldn't let myself give up.

I had to go on, had to be good.

Reaching the bottom, I took off running to the car to get more bullets.

I dug around the trunk, looking for more, but I couldn't find anyone.

I'd have to get more later, but right now all I had was one clip.

Slamming the trunk, I raced back.

I stopped, panting, and touched my forehead.

When I took my hand away there was blood on my fingers.

I wiped my hand off then checked my clip. Only a couple of bullets left.

It would have to do. I put it back then ran out from behind the rock.

I couldn't give up now.

I walked past the dead body, my knife dripping. My clip had run out, but I gotten the sucker.

My hands and face were splattered with blood. Was I really good?

I took one last look at the body then kept walking.

If I dwelled on this I would go insane.

My hands left bloody handprints on the sink's rim then I turned the faucet on and started washing way the evidence.

When I looked into the mirror, black eyes greeted me. I wasn't surprised.

Taking my still bloody hand off the sink handle, I licked it slowly, tasting the crimson liquid.

In the car, I looked out the window, both happy and upset that my head was clearer.

What was the problem with something if it made me feel better? It couldn't be that bad.

Sammy got addicted to blood too and he used the power it gave him for good.

If he could do it then so could I.

I felt powerful. Why not use it?

Then I felt a flash of guilt. I'd almost let myself lose. That couldn't happen.

I had to go on, had to be good.

I wished Cas was here. I wonder if he listens when I pray to him. I wonder if he cares. Did he stop being my friend when I became a Demon?

I sat against the car. Again.

Holding a bottle of alcohol. Again.

I looked at it and for once I didn't want to drink it. I wanted to hurl it against a wall, watch it shatter into tiny, dangerous shards.

It had happened in the hotel room too.

Fire.

Matches.

Silence.

Nothing helped, I knew that now.

I wiped away my tears, but one rolled down my face anyways.

I can't do it.

I tried.

I want to rage, I want to find somewhere safe for me to hide, but I can't hide from myself. That's not how it works.

I pushed myself off the hood of Baby and got in the car.


	2. AN

p style="text-align: center;"emTo anybody who cares enough to read this/em/p  
p style="text-align: center;"emI'm sorry I haven't updated anything, but honestly I feel no inspiration and kind of like I'm not a good writer./em/p  
p style="text-align: center;"emI hate to say this, but without people to urge me on, this work has become tedious and depressing./em/p  
p style="text-align: center;"emI'm not asking for much, just leave a comment. Tell me I suck, tell me what you did or didn't like about it, tell me how to fix it./em/p  
p style="text-align: center;"emSorry guys, Logic Out./em/p 


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